


I'm on a boat!

by PastTheVaultedDoors



Series: Warcraft RP [4]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Night Elf, Roleplay, highborne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 16:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3388139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastTheVaultedDoors/pseuds/PastTheVaultedDoors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OC musing. Takes place during a ship ride across the ocean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Helia looked down at his hands and made a fist. When they opened a piddly fleck of fire sparked to life before it faded in the salt washed air. He sighed and looked off to the nighttime sea.  
  
He hated sailing. Not that the rocking of the ship made him ill, but the fact that he couldn't get a good hold of the Ley Lines while they were moving. Everything around him was solid, unmoving. Dead. He hated not having his magic under his fingertips. He felt so... naked.  
  
He lowered his hands where he'd been playing with his pitiful power for the last two hours and leaned his head back against the mast he was sitting against, out of the way of the sailors. He smiled as he remembered the last time he sailed so close to the Eastern Kingdoms. It was with the Starsong Clan and they were after quite the prize.  
  
Helia remembered how bright the sun was against the sparkling waters of the south. Despite it's oft clouded climate, they were met with a sunny day, much to Helia's distaste. He could never understand Amoonth, how despite being kaldorei himself, could easily function in the daytime.  
  
But one thing he never questioned was his wife and second in command; Nelmarai. She may have been a tiny gnome, but her drive and fearsome attitude put even the strongest or ocs in their place.  
  
Not that day, however, as the skiff of thirty men and women quietly crept closer to their target. Helia's task was in his specialty; illusions. He masked their ship against the gentle waves of the ocean as they approached the H.M.S. Redridge.  
  
The Starsong Clan were not outright bandits--or in this case, pirates--but if they were unsuccessful in taking on a royal ship their name would be marred in the public face with a potential for a hanging. While Helia did enjoy a good necklace, one made of rope so crudely created made his skin itch at the thought.  
  
The ambush went well. They scaled the ship in silence and began taking out the soldiers and sailors for a good few minutes before they were discovered and the bell rang.  
  
All Hell broke loose then. It was glorious. Helia remembered the sounds of metal against metal as swords clashed, the smell of gun power from the few that carried muskets. He fought back to back with the warlock, Kahlilah, for some time, both of them eerily in sync with their killing blows, but his mission wasn't to fight.  
  
They, and an orc he recalled being named Tadd, made their way past the fray and into the cabins, making their way to the captain's quarters. When they rushed in, Tabb was assaulted by an unexpected guard, but Kahlilah was quick to melt the man's face off.  
  
Literally.  
  
Two Stormwind Magi blocked the way to their prize; a rock that glowed green and yellow suspended over a disk of runes. The orc rushed in, closely followed by Helia and his sword. He offered a shield of defense when bolts of arcane and ice came at them but with his own magic nullified by his lack of the Line it did little against the assault. Tadd took a heavy hit from the fray, and neither magi or warlock knew enough to heal him of it. After a final swing of his heavy ax, taking an arm of a magi with him, Tadd took his final breath.  
  
However, it was enough for the wickedly talented warlock and the elegant swordsman to take out the second magi.  
  
Securing the door, Kahlilah's sea deep eyes glanced at Helia and she gave a mute nod. After taking a calming breath and steadying himself with his magic reserves, Helia began to shift a shell over the glowing rock.  
  
Their objective was simple; take the Prismatic Sphere from the H.M.S. Redridge. There was an Elementalist near Gilnaes with the ability to destroy it.  
  
And why take it from the royal army?  
  
It might not have been the King, or even of his knowledge, but someone in the higher courts was looking to use it. The Prismatic Sphere wasn't a far cry from the Demon Soul. Of course, nothing could match that kind of power, but it could still initiate a great deal of damage.  
  
Either way, it wasn't a widely known mission of the Stormwind Army. An objective made only in whispers in shadowed corners of the courts.  
  
Luckily, the Starsong Clan has ears in the walls.  
  
Helia's brow began to break out into a sweat as he finished covering the Sphere in what looked like a giant, black pill. He sighed softly in relief when he finished but was still tentative when he reached his long fingers out to touch the casing.  
  
"We're ready," he told his partner in crime as he finally picked up the covered, magic rock and stepped over the dead and dying magi. He did glance at Tadd though. If they weren't too late, perhaps their Priest could resurrect him, but now was not the time to dwell on lost souls.  
  
The duo ran through the halls of the ship and burst through the doors-  
  
-only to discover a standoff on deck.  
  
The captain held Nelmarai in his arms, her little feet kicking out in protest even as a standard issued dagger was held to her thin neck. Amoonth, the bold and strong elf as he was, stood frozen and still with a musket aimed for the captain.  
All the fighting around them had stopped and there were dead from both sides of the playing field. However, it looked like the victor was going to be the Stormwind Army.  
  
At spotting the two magic users, the captain huffed a laugh. "Do you really think you'd get away with this?" he said without taking his eyes off Amoonth but obviously using his puerperal vision to spy their cargo. "We are the strength of the Lion! You're going hang for your treason!"  
  
"Don't do anything rash," Amoonth's booming voice tried calmly. He slowly lowered his musket. Any noble group would hate him for sacrificing the crew for his own wife, but the Starsong knew what they were getting into when they joined; every man for his own objective. Or himself. Whatever you preferred.  
  
Which, somehow, always ended in their favor.  
  
Slowly, the Clan lowered their weapons as well and followed Amoonth's example and got to their knees.  
  
"Pansies! All of you!" Nelmarai cursed at the Clan as she continued to wriggle against the captain's hold while the man began a victory speech about the might of the Alliance and how their band of misfits were nothing but scum.  
  
However, Helia and Kahlilah were not amiss to see a quick glance at them from Amoonth. As they lowered to the ground, Helia held the shielded Sphere near his knees. The red warlock shook her head to a minute degree at her friend, a bit of warning in her widened eyes. He in turn disagreed and slowly his fingers slipped through the black shell of the Sphere.  
  
The power! Raw and fierce and unnatural. It was disgusting and made Helia's stomach churn. Even glancing the power of the Prismatic Sphere was enough to refuel the fire of the Highborn's dwindling magic. It felt wrong, like his skin was inside out as he pulled at the threads of arcane laced within. Like spiderwebs crawling up his arms, the magic raced into his veins; the curse and joy of using his own body as a point of power.  
  
His eyes grew wide and dulled to gray until the light snapped out and were as black as the midnight sky. He groaned and heard voices, screaming but he couldn't stop it as his spell was already in play. He touched the ship's haul, the wood and metal and cannons. He reached for souls, souls he knew, the bodies they were attached to.  
  
Then; CRACK!  
  
Like a thunderbolt the boat lurched and the world flashed out of existence.  
  
A moment later Helia released the Prismatic Sphere's magic and slumped over to throw up. It took a few minutes before he was aware that someone was shaking his shoulder and calling his name.  
  
"Wha...?" he asked and looked up at a blur of faces. Nelmarai and Amoonth and Kahlilah and a few others.  
  
"Boy, you okay?" Amoonth's voice finally came into focus.  
  
Helia nod and pushed himself up to sit, using a body to his side as support. He wasn't sure who it was. Probably a healer.  
  
All around the H.M.S. Redridge he could see the Starsong Clan meandering about, picking up weapons, pulling up sails, and generally taking over the ship. No bodies of the Alliance soldiers remained. Not even the dead ones. Only the Starsong Clan remained.  
  
Except for the captain, who looked like he was burned up from the core, inside to out. He smelled flesh, and fire, and vomit, but in the end, it looked like they survived.  
  
"That was..." Amoonth began, his old, silver eyes glowing with something like pride. "Quite a feat."  
  
"What did you do with the crew?" Nelmarai asked, noting the missing Alliance as well.  
  
"I didn't move the crew," Helia said, breathless. "I moved the ship."  
  
Nelmarai blinked up at him a few times. "You're telling me," she began slowly as they all pieced it together. "That you teleported an entire Alliance ship?" She blanched. "With selected bodies aboard? Are you kidding me?! You could have killed us all!"  
  
Helia nod as he tried to pull his normal, uncaring yet arrogant facade together. "Mm," he agreed.  
  
"But where are the soldiers?" Amoonth inquired. "Where did you sent them?"  
  
"Nowhere. They're probably floating in the ocean right now. I suspect they'll be dead in a few days if they don't drown first."  
While Nelmarai babbled about insane elves and crazy magic, it was the sudden flash of pain on his wrist the made Helia aware of the damage the Prismatic Sphere actually did to his body. "Lilah!" he cursed as his friend lift his hand. It was blackened and red from the fingertips up to his elbows. Charred from an internal burn and blistering with blood oozing out here and there. He could see part of his bone peering through the flesh of his pinkie finger.  
  
It was then that the shock of it all came to him and the immense pain of both his arms reached his brain. "Gah!" he yelled as he snatched his arm out of Kahlilah's grasp. The very nerves burned, seared like ice and fire all at once. It took effort for him not to retch again.  
  
It was then that the healer, a dwarf, he noted, put a hand to his head and cast a spell. Helia fell then into a magicked sleep.  
  
Helia smirked as he remembered that day. They commandeered a ship and destroyed the Prismatic Sphere not long after. Demon Deep, the ship was newly named, was excellent for trading along the heavier waters of the south shores of Kalimdor.  
  
However, his hands were never the same again after that. He flexed his fingers again, trying to feel the Lines once more.  
  
Helia, with his mind for science, and Kahlilah, with her creepy knowledge of anatomy, put their heads together to try to heal the magicked damage. The nerves were pieced together well enough, but his sense of touch in his fingers was either too much or too little. It somehow started a strange habit of his to touch those he spoke with (when he was comfortable enough with them, anyway).  
  
However, the cosmetic damage couldn't be fixed completely and he had to use yet another glamour spell to make his hands appears as they used to; strong and large yet at the same time delicate and fragile. Yeah, the man could pull of masculine and feminine in equal intervals.  
  
Helia sighed softly and let his hand flop into his lap, giving up on the magic for the night. He gazed up at the nighttime sky, the stars so clear beyond the masts and sails. He smiled to himself as he recalled their destination.  
  
Even if he wasn't with the Starsong Clan anymore, he still was glad he was with a group that did not shy for adventure.  
  
If they were at war, he could only glean happiness from the chaos to come. Just like the good ol' days.


	2. Chapter 2

Helia glanced up at the sky and frowned. “It’s like the sky is bleeding,” he complained as the rain continued to tumble down over the ship headed east. It hadn’t really stopped all night, but luckily the falls were calm considering it could have blasted them off course otherwise. “Can’t one of you druids make it stop?”  
  
He peered around at the kaldorei and sailors. A good handful of them rolled their eyes and went back under the cover of their ponchos, on duty but sorely hating that night. Helia shook a torrent of rain off his own body, opting out of robes tonight and donning leather slacks and an embroidered tunic under a knee-length coat with a furred trim. His boots tapped a rhythm on the deck as he leaned over the railing.  
  
Inside the haul, the crew and cargo were rather quiet, having taken in the din of the evening as the rain pattered overhead. And he, Helia, being a creature born and bred for chaos, couldn't take it. He’d begun pestering everyone, from spelling stair to insult anyone who stepped on it, betting the sailors to play amputation roulette with his sword and a bag of gold, and scaring the sea sick about ancient serpents that awakened recently at Deathwing’s upheaval. He was so bored he almost got into a measuring contest with a gangling looking kaldorei man (yes, that kind of measuring contest) when he was kicked out of the haul and forced into the rain.


End file.
